


Primary Directive

by withered



Series: Who's been lovin' you good? [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Barnes has feelings about Tony, Bucky Barnes is a badass, Civil War Team Iron Man, Friday approves, Friday is protective, M/M, Not Clint Friendly, Post Captain America: Civil War, Salty about Civil War, Team Cap Critical, Tony Stark Defense Squad, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark needs to be protected, Touchy-Feely, not team Cap friendly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 14:25:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13296765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withered/pseuds/withered
Summary: The Winter Soldier was the weapon, but it was nothing without Bucky. However, that didn’t mean that Bucky could exactly be purposeless either. He needed a new directive, and he chose Tony.A companion to Kiss kiss, bang bang.





	Primary Directive

**Author's Note:**

> You don't need to read Kiss kiss, bang bang to understand what's happening, it's more for background information and Tony's POV.
> 
> Feel free to throw prompts or scream at me on my [Tumblr](https://cheshire-cassiel.tumblr.com/)

 

For whatever reason, people tended to forget that beyond being the person that could tear through empires as the Fist of Hydra, that Bucky Barnes was a trained and highly skilled sniper. Before The Fall. Before the serum. Before the Winter Solider.

He was highly focused, highly disciplined; perceptive and patient, and that was _Before_.

Seventy years of missions and training amplified it to the extreme, honing his skill set to make him arguably the most dangerous human alive. Steve included.

The Winter Soldier was the weapon, but it was nothing without Bucky.

For whatever reason, people forgot that.

Even dear, Natalia; so overrated; so caught up in her own importance and legend. He’d be disgusted at how compromised she’d become since he last encountered her if it actually mattered to him.

But Bucky had more important things to think about, like the man before him.

Tony Stark was everything Bucky and the Winter Solider were not: He was like the sun; bright and warm and brilliant, otherworldly, but so _attainably human_. It baffled Bucky, actually, for all of Tony’s ingenuity, his genius, strength, determination, and unmatched sheer _goodness_ , Tony was everything that was fallible.

He made mistakes; he overshot his marks; he insisted on handling everything himself, he was surprisingly naïve; he was an idealist and a realist existing in one body; he still wanted approval, still desired to be liked however much he buried it, he hoped for so much more for others and yet expected so little in return. He carried guilt and regret and loss like well-worn shirts, and he could never seem to forgive himself for the things that weren’t always his fault.

But he was still who he pretended to be – abrasive and snarky, the genius-billionaire-playboy-philanthropist – his ability to play the role was impressive, even by spy standards, and again, Bucky found himself disappointed in Natalia’s inability to see through it. 

Overtaken by her hubris and distracted by the sparkle of Captain America’s patriotic propaganda reel, no doubt.

However, Tony’s greatest error had been _this_ – them:

He overestimated the so-called Avengers; he mistakenly put his trust and affection and _love_ in their unworthy hands and they crushed him, and Bucky could see it, plain as day.

A ticking time-bomb of ego and manipulation, and at its center, the famed genius that shaped the future like putty in his hands, who grew more and more tired as the body count piled up and the blame was laid solely at his feet.

For Tony’s sake, as well as his own, Bucky _knew_ that he had to things slow, so slow it could be considered glacial.

He had to.

He had his own atonement to commit, had accusations he had to face and deal with, he owed Tony that much.

After all, the man, even faced with the video of his parents’ brutal murder, still had mercy to dole out.

Bucky’s seen what the Iron Man suits can do; knows what Tony is capable of.

He had been a threat level so high that no one in the underground would even consider playing in his sandbox unless they were willing to go all in – people that crossed Tony Stark tended to die – and Bucky and Steve would be no exception.

Except they were, and they’d left him in a frozen tundra in an armored coffin.

When they were brought back, the first thing Bucky said was, "Thank you."

He didn’t deserve it – the pardon – the forgiveness for the trouble they caused – a safe place to go to – a home with food and protection and – none of it. And what had Tony done? He shrugged, careless and tired, and that was it.

“You don’t need to thank him, Buck,” Steve had said, almost disapproving, and at the agreements uttered in varying volumes of Natalia’s smirk to Clint’s vehemence that _Tony’s a billionaire, what else is he good for_ to Wanda’s reminder that _Stark has sins to pay for_.

Bucky was resolved in his assessment: They didn’t deserve him.

And, on that note – he wasn’t surprised to find that they didn’t want him either.

For all the tech he offered up for personal weapons, protection, communication and transport; his money that clothed, housed, fed them and then some; his generosity in still providing for them irrespective of their differences and their cruelty; Tony was rewarded by sneers and jeers and downright disrespect.

Even, on the occasion – just the once, Bucky wouldn’t allow it a second time – harm against his person, which included his feelings.

Bucky didn’t even care that Clint had to be hospitalized, you don’t taunt the man that recovered you from exile and prison and god knows what else to offer the _friendly reminder_ to Bucky that, “ _We’ve gotta watch our back, or Tony’ll break it like he did his pal, Rhodes_.”

After that, Bucky stayed glued to Tony.

“I don’t trust these assholes,” he told Friday when he first came down to the lab.

And Friday, AI or not, was one of the few people he liked.

She was downright protective of her creator.

According to Tony himself, none of the Rogues (besides Bucky) could even step foot in the elevator to his lab, and his penthouse was locked up tighter than Alcatraz.

Bucky’s response had been the only reason he was allowed in, something Friday warned could be revoked at any moment:

“Boss hasn’t said anything about banning you, and from my understanding of you, you are not a threat to him. But if you hurt him in any way, I can very easily make your life a nightmare and Boss would never know. Ask the Witch.”

How Friday managed to upgrade her systems to deal with _magic_ was beyond Bucky’s realm of understanding, but the sentiment was appreciated. Tony Stark needed to be protected. It was a directive Bucky could get behind.

Besides, Bucky had the added benefit of relishing in the opportunity to be awash with the future that Tony bended to his will, all to himself.

Not to mention – Tony – _all to himself_.

They’d pounded it out, as it were. At the time, not in the way Bucky _now_ _wanted_ , but it was necessary and late in coming.

Tony deserved to take his anger out on him. Bucky – The Winter Solider – he deserved it.

Bucky could take it, and Tony – still good, still merciful – would never actually _kill him_. If anything Tony was more broken up about it in the end, and after Bucky peeled himself off the floor, he placed a tentative hand on Tony’s shoulder – and the glistening eyes and trembling lips looked like closure – and the hand Tony covered his with on his shoulder – that felt like absolution, and that was all Bucky needed.

 It all went downhill from there.

He supposed Tony attributed the constant touches as a craving for any human contact, the physical displays of affection as something Bucky was re-learning which was fine.

Whatever suited; whatever made it _okay_ for Bucky to touch him like this.

It was hard to get his mind around that himself; the constant urge to poke and prod and caress and smooth out and _touchtouchtouch_ because Tony Stark was nuclear fusion in skin and _he burned_.

It was unintentional at first – fingers brushing when passing the coffee or handing over the plate – moving past each other in the communal areas or in the space of the lab.

Then more purposeful – picking Tony up to lay him down on the couch after he fell asleep at his workbench – throwing an arm across his shoulders when they were watching movies – tugging at his hand whenever he was in the lab too long and needed fresh air and a shower.

To, tentative – wrapping his arm around his waist when they both dozen off – lingering at his shoulder to watch Tony do something – sliding their fingers against one another until they slotted in place –caring and cautious whenever he looked over any injuries Tony obtained from lab-related experiments.

Bucky couldn’t help it.

Tony was always warm, his olive complexion going noticeably red in response to all the _touchtouchtouching_ , and Bucky’s a greedy bastard, so of course, it escalated.

The kisses, Bucky was out of practice on anyway, and by then he decided _Tony should know_   – _Tony should know that he burns like the sun – that he’s precious and needs to be protected – and I’ll be the one to do it because I –_

They were sweet if he had to give it a word.

Kisses on the temple, on the cheek, on the hand, against his fingers, on his shoulder; with every press of his lips against Tony, he apologized for all the scars Tony had had to bear, all the loneliness that lingered in his eyes, all the pain that others had caused until every kiss was a proclamation of _I’m here now, you aren’t alone, I’m going to take care of you._

 It was all relatively innocent and chaste except for the times when it’s not.

When Tony’s got that tank top that looks like it’s painted on, his hair in all directions and a grin so wide that Bucky can’t help it –

His enthusiasm is rewarded because Tony’s lips taste like happiness and surprise and excitement and every tentative press and pull of their bodies against one another _just feels so damn good_.

Then there was that skintight under suit Tony wore beneath the armor – soft and pliable and Bucky liked it best – liked it most until Tony tugged himself free and bare and vulnerable and _his_ and – _perfectperfectperfect, all of you, sweetheart – every inch._

And though Bucky had decided since his arrival that he would protect Tony, it was cemented now more than ever that it would be his prime directive.

 

**Author's Note:**

> So this became a lot less smut territory and more touchy-feely, but I think it kind of suits too because Kiss kiss bang bang was pretty physically charged so this balances it out, I guess? Also, I’m clearly still very salty about CACW so there’s that.


End file.
